An
avalanche. That's the best word I can come up with to describe
the ever-quickening pace at which I speed toward retirement
from teaching. It's not that I mind the direction that I'm
headed – its just that after I set the wheels in motion
I've found there's no way to control the descent. Much like
a skier who is looking to get from the top of the mountain
to the bottom, an avalanche accomplishes the goal but not
in the manner of choice.
The
final days are going by in a blur. There's still so much
left to do. There are file cabinets brimming with everything
from fitness testing results to curricula – from reams
of track meet results to department head computer files
- and finally those last 400 e-mails I have to delete from
the school server. The storage closet holds countless books,
magazines and personal equipment that have found their way
to school. Arlene hopes they won't find their way home.
My workspace is already filled with file boxes of meet results,
end of year booklets and senior poems. It doesn't need more
of the same.
At
school there's stuff everywhere. Stuff to throw out, stuff
to pass on and stuff to keep for who knows what future purpose.
I
thought I could time things perfectly - that on my last
day I could sever the connection. Now, thirty-five years
of accumulated junk is the cascading snow pack that gave
way and has sent me head over teakettle (now that's an expression
not used much anymore).
Not
that I didn't try to get a head start. I've been slowly
picking away at this all year. But now that I'm close (eight
days) I still see a mountain of work ahead. It's not just
the physical accumulation I have to deal with. There is
a lot of social and emotional housekeeping ahead.
Yesterday
the physed staff took me out for lunch, libation and laughs,
sorting through the sometimes poignant and oft-odd times
we've shared. Tomorrow it's more of the same with a high
school retiree staff picnic. Each event momentarily slows
the tumble, but the fall continues.
It's
a good thing that I began the separation from coaching ahead
of time. My teams are now in the capable stewardship of
Tara Bennett (cross country), Anne McGrail (indoor track)
and Jason Feid (spring track). I'm confident of the future.
Tara and Jason ran for me and both captained undefeated
teams. They've proven they know how to get the job done.
Anne and I have coached side-by-side for so long it's hard
to remember she came from Mansfield.
The
department head part of my career is in limbo. After tonight's
RTM meeting on the budget it will be time to replace me
– or not. Not that it's any of my business.
Once I'm gone I'm gone. But a rudderless ship can quickly
end up on the rocks even though I leave a dozen solid professionals
to the task. Hopefully one of them will get the chance step
in and chart a new course.
And
the teaching is coming to an end as well. I played medic
with a small class of freshman and now my throwing arm hangs
limply at my side. During my last ever frosh-soph class
period five I invented a new game, just to show I can. Tomorrow
I finish up with juniors and seniors. After putting final
grades into the computer I'll devote full-time to packing
up and clearing out.
I
will soon blend into the background but it isn't always
easy. A week ago I was donating blood and I dropped the
tube the nurse gives you to squeeze. From behind me I heard
“You didn't just drop that baton, did you?” It was a retired
town accountant letting me know that despite what ends and
what begins, you can't escape your past.
Not
that I'd want to. That too is part of the problem. Letting
go is tough.
For
those asking what I'm doing next, I have two answers. Number
1 is to start getting back in touch with the technology
curve. The other is hopefully making time to thank the hundreds
(thousands?) of people who have enriched my time here in
North Attleboro. Since I've been in town since 1952 the
list is lengthy, but I'll have plenty of time when the avalanche
comes to a halt.
For
the foreseeable future northrunning.com will continue –
at least until I brush the snow off and ski in another direction.
Yours
in running,
Coach
Estey
